


while the light fails

by svartalfheimr



Series: interference [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, Fantasy, M/M, Spooky, mutually unrequited rexakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/svartalfheimr
Summary: Rex has a mirror in his pocket and a creature in his dreams. It isn't that weird, except for the fact that he can never see his own reflection in the mirror and he knows the creature isn't one he made up himself.(Fantasy AU with spooky elements)
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Darth Maul/CT-7567 | Rex
Series: interference [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164770
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36
Collections: Rexconditioned, Star Wars Valentine's Exchange 2021





	while the light fails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasondont (minigami)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minigami/gifts).



> When I saw that my valentine was @jasondont I was ecstatic because look!!! it my friend!!! Then the days passed and the closer the date was getting the more anxious I grew dskjhf
> 
> I've almost got all the prompts (couldn't squeeze in mutual pining) and both ships (even though rexakin is unrequited,,,,,) but couldn't make the found families fit in (i tried and it was weird)
> 
> Many thanks to Cee for beta'ing and fair warning: this isn't very fluffy and it's... it's a bit weird, I'd say. But I tried to write something that my Valentine would like and I hope I succeeded 🙈
> 
> This is [crossposted on tumblr](https://svartalfheimr.tumblr.com/post/643119406796472320/happy-valentines-day-jasondont-so-excited-to) and I made an actual, public [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1vUBtqjjIuIuy6AIlYjJso?si=4649a734ec1144e5) for this fic because I thought it could be a fun addition to this dfjhgkdf

  
  
  


There’s a mirror in Rex’s pocket—one he tries to keep with him at all times. It’s not a big thing; he can hold it in his palm easily and it’s stronger than durasteel. It never breaks, never cracks, even if he sits or walks on it. He doesn’t know how he got it. He just knows it’s always been there with him. 

It’s a mirror; there’s no doubt about it. When Rex looks in it, under the table in the officer’s mess, he can see Appo making grimaces at the food when he thinks no one can see him. It’s funny because, as much as Appo is good at sabacc, he’s terrible at hiding it when he finds food disgusting.

There’s something weird about his mirror. It's a bit horrifying but very beautiful.

What Rex means: he doesn’t want to get rid of it.

When they’re planetside, if there’s a sun, he can play with the mirror and draw mindless patterns with the reflected light. He doesn’t do it when there’s someone else around because he doesn’t want others to know about his mirror—but if he gets the chance he does it to soothe his nerves.

What Rex implies: he is morbidly fascinated.

  
  
  


There’s a creature in Rex’s dreams—one he tries to see every time but never catches a glimpse of. It crawls behind and around him no matter what he dreams about; he can hear it and feel it stalk and pace like a wild animal imprisoned in a cage. It never attacks, never comes close, no matter how many times he calls or tries to find it. He doesn’t know why it’s here. He just knows it’s always been here.

It’s aware of his presence, too; there’s no doubt about it. When Rex looks around to see it, exploring the landscapes his mind imagines, he can hear it or even feel it but he can’t see it. It’s sad because, as much as the creature seems adamant to avoid him, he can clearly sense it isn’t happy.

There’s something weird about this creature. It may be sentient and dangerous.

What Rex means: he doesn’t want to get rid of it.

When he’s really exhausted, if he has time on his own to sleep, his nightmares can be paralyzing to the point that he can’t escape them even if he knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. It’s in these instances that he wonders if the creature is safe or thrown right in the thick of it with him. 

What Rex implies: he's strangely attached to it.

Rex never has his mirror in his dreams. If he keeps looking for it he gets nervous and fear fills him until he starts drowning in it. When he wakes up the first thing he does is look for his mirror and he feels like he can’t breathe until he has it safely cradled in his palm.

There’s something wrong with his mirror; when Rex tries to see his reflection in it, he never can. If he doesn’t try to look at himself, he can see what’s happening around him. If he tries to look at himself, he sees something else.

After the Citadel, it becomes clear Rex can’t focus clearly if he doesn’t have his mirror at all times with him. It's dangerous but he feels like he can't help it. He doesn't say anything to anyone about it; he is careful to keep it hidden at all times and never does anything that could alert someone to its presence.

He begins to stare at it any chance he gets. Every time he is alone, he cradles it in his palm and looks around him only through it. In his bed, he tries to catch his reflection but sees something else.

They're on leave when he dreams about a planet with no sun. The stars shine beneath his feet and Rex roams around the strange land with nothing but unending night and faraway memories. It's so different from the usual nightmare on Geonosis he doesn't try to question the dream. 

There's a silhouette on the horizon.

Somehow, he is sure he needs to go there—so he walks to the horizon, the stars disappearing behind him and the land shuddering in strange shapes at his sides. He doesn't reach the silhouette; there's a wall darker than dead space in front of him. It shudders and makes strange, metallic noises—like there's something crawling all over it except Rex can't see anything. 

“Is that you?” he asks, looking around for the creature, and the wall stills. He flattens his hand on it, spreading his fingers wide; it doesn't feel like he's touching anything. “Are you there?”

He waits for a long time, oddly stuck in place and unwilling to move. He frowns, tilting his head to the side as if a new angle may help him understand what all of this means.

The wall gives small, soft lulls beneath his palm, like water would if it were as thick as goo without being tangible. 

“Hey,” Rex whispers with a confused smile. 

The wall shivers then he feels a hand aligning with his own only to twist; fingers close around the back of his hand and Rex wakes up.

He looks for his mirror and doesn't relax until he cradles it in his palm. He observes the room around him through it and smiles. It feels softly rough against his skin now, like calluses except it's still as smooth as it's always been.

Umbara brings… something forward. Rex keeps reliving the same moment over and over and over again: his hand is shaking, curled around his blaster, ready to shoot, but he can’t make himself pull the trigger. Krell is a Jedi. Krell wasn’t a Jedi. Krell was a superior officer. Krell is a traitor. But Krell is a Jedi. And Krell is a traitor.

There’s something, deep within him, that growls at the idea of a traitor—something that scares him so much he doesn’t poke at it because he can’t afford to let fear control him. 

After Umbara, his dreams are only nightmares. He relives the same events again and again, except now he can feel fear permeating the air like he never felt it before; it's invasive and blinding, making him impervious to logic and reason. He doesn't think, only endures the same simulation until it's over and it restarts—he grows more desperate and afraid every time the General leaves them but he can never stop him from doing so. 

There's a voice in his dreams now—one that whispers frantic words Rex doesn't understand but he can feel the fear in them sharply. Sometimes he thinks he can catch glimpses of the creature in the shadow jungle; he sees long, shuddering limbs of various kinds of metal crawling from the corner of his eye but never more than that. He knows it's the creature living in his mind because he never saw anything like this outside of _here_ and he knows, deep down within him, that the creature isn't something coming from him.

There's something wrong with having a creature in his mind that isn't here because he created it. But the truth is he knows, deep down inside him, that the creature is a friendly and he doesn't want to scare it more than it already is. There's no doubt in Rex's mind that it hasn't tried to approach because it is afraid of what he might do to it—and no matter how much he tries to call it to him, the creature never comes close.

Zygerria is… a new experience.

When he and General Kenobi get enslaved, it is difficult to accept it but Rex keeps his head down because the Jedi doesn’t know how to. The same thing that started growling since Umbara growls harder than ever. Rex is angry, and his blood sings every time he sees an opportunity—but the General wants them to wait for the right moment. At night, his dreams don’t make any sense; he’s unbalanced, desperate, looking for something but finding nothing. There’s a voice, guiding him towards that thing that keeps growing and growling. When he wakes up he has to keep his eyes closed for a moment. He feels odd in his body like it’s not his own. It’s weird since _it is._

Rex hits his point of no return when they get into the control room; General Kenobi gives the all-clear and something breaks inside him. Suddenly, he’s sharper, meaner, angrier and _hungry._ His body feels lighter, faster, but also weaker; he’s holding a slaver’s spear in his hand, feels the electricity tickle his skin and he smiles. The General gives him the all clear and he pulls out enough strength from within him to impale the Zyg.

“I’m no Jedi,” he says. 

What he means: somehow the knowledge empowers him.

He’s in the hangar bay, with the Generals and Commander Wolffe. They’ve been talking; he’s been answering. He has no idea what is happening or what the conversation is about. The Togrutas are still here; their leader is speaking with Ahsoka and Rex is still wearing the slaver clothes. He still feels angry. He still feels like he’s out of place, like the world around him is sharper and raw. He feels like he is in _a_ body but not his own.

What he implies: he doesn’t know the Force and he doesn’t know if it’s playing tricks on him.

The Jedi go away and Rex is still planted in the middle of the hangar bay. He blinks, scowls at himself and curses his lack of helmet. They'll join the fleet soon enough. His shell will be intact.

He grits his teeth, clenching his fist. It serves no purpose to pat his pocket because the mirror isn't here—it's with his kama. There's no need to check since it isn't here. He does anyway. His pocket is empty.

“Sir,” someone says. Rex tenses until he sees Wolffe. It's just Wolffe. “Come with me.”

For a short instant, his eyes narrow; the Commander stills. 

“It's alright, sir,” Wolffe says, nodding slowly. “They're all safe now.”

Rex doesn't really know what happens after that—but he wakes up in Wolffe’s quarters on his own, wearing blacks that aren't his, and when he checks his pocket he sighs heavily in relief.

The mirror is here.

After Zygerria, Rex's mind becomes even more aggressive; it's like walking into a house that doesn't want you to be here. He has to fight against it even when he's awake now—but it doesn't affect him much on the field so he doesn't think it warrants alerting anyone about it. 

What he means: his mind isn't doing well but he can manage just fine.

Zygerria and Umbara become one when he dreams—he's wearing those awful clothes in the middle of the shadow jungle, brothers falling on the ground under heavy fire because Rex has nothing to protect them except a useless spear. There's fire too, lighting up the place that should always be in constant darkness; the bugs keep coming out of nowhere to kill his men and he has to fight against the sand in his eyes, the locals completely immune to—

Wait.

These aren’t—No. These guys are not Umbarans, right? Where is he again? Those caves—where’re they from? That’s not the shadow jungle, that’s—where is he? 

Are you on Geonosis, Rex?

What he implies: he’s become fond of the fights he has with his own self.

He's never been here before but it looks real. Maybe he has and doesn't remember. Sometimes it's hard to make a difference between what's created and recreated. It used to be periodic but now the lines are blurred; Rex walks inside a Venator to the primary bridge because he needs to see the General. The men nod respectfully. There’s something crawling inside the walls. When he checks inside his pocket, it's empty.

He wakes up and walks to the primary bridge because he needs to see the General. The men nod respectfully. There's nothing crawling inside the walls. When he checks inside his pocket, there's a familiar weight.

Why did Wolffe call him ‘sir’?

Rex wants to go back to the planet with no sun but his mind is far from being cooperative. “Are you there?” he shouts in the shadow jungle when he's alone because everyone around him is already dead. “Are you alright?”

There is movement behind the plants. Hasty steps in the cracked earth, and the fauna falls silent. Rex takes a step towards the noises. 

Nothing.

“Hey,” he whispers soothingly. “It’s just me.”

There’s a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the bushes. Rex grins. “Hello,” he says. The vegetation shivers and growls. “It’s just me.” He takes another step forward—the eyes widen and the growl stops. “I won’t hurt you.” He takes another step—and another. He can almost touch the bushes. He raises his hand, slowly, and the eyes blink. Rex stills.

He hears something shivering. Metallic, he’d guess. The bushes shiver with the sound. Rex frowns.

It’s a loud sound. Something _big_ must be doing that.

“Hey,” he says slowly, with less confidence. “It’s alright. It’s just me. There’s no one else here.” 

The bushes growl—a grating sound that becomes rawer and more acute, aggressing Rex’s ears more than blaster shots ever did. The ground under his feet trembles with the force of it—Rex knows this is bad. He should leave. He should step away. He should wake up.

“Hey,” he snaps, a sharp order coming from his stomach; words imbued with feral strength form naturally in his throat even if they feel foreign. “You calm down, _now._ ”

Silence. 

The creature blinks, the eyes going low in the bushes. Rex smiles. He steps forward, his feet knowing the right pace to adopt even though _he_ doesn't. His hand is in the bushes except he doesn't feel anything but air—until he touches something and yellow eyes widen.

It's long and sharp and feels like some kind of bone. One end stings while the others feels—

Rex hears a curious whine then he feels hot flesh against his palm. He gasps.

He wakes up startled; he looks for his mirror immediately and doesn't breathe until he finds it. When he looks at himself, he sees yellow eyes staring at him. 

Rex smiles.

He dreams about a voice and it’s supposed to be his own—but it’s not. It’s younger, rougher and it just feels raw, like coming from his stomach while Rex’s chuckle comes from his chest. It’s visceral and dangerous but the words aren’t. He dreams about sensations more than anything else—he’s somewhere, exactly where he doesn’t know, but he’s on his own and he can’t move. It’s what he fears the most: the kind of moment when your body freezes in the midst of battle because your brain doesn’t follow. Rex is proud to say his body can do the job even if his mind isn’t fully here—but he’s seen what happens to brothers who can’t. He thinks it’s what’s happening to him right now.

The ringing in his ears is encompassing and his limbs don’t respond; he’s stuck in place, crouching with his arms around his head, staring at the inexisting ground between his bent knees and trying to breathe again. There’s nothing he can do and it’s that sensation of helplessness that fuels his nightmare—he knows it but he can’t stop it. There’s a noise, some odd sound coming from behind; it’s metallic and _shivering._ Rex gasps because no matter how hard he tries he can’t move.

He feels a weight on his back and he is shelled from the outside world, surrounded by metal. He sees hands, with long, gangly fingers and claws, and feels arms around him, thin and bony and impossibly cold. He should be terrified or at least trying to _get out_ but all he does is gasp.

What Rex means: he can finally breathe again.

The creature growls; it’s a low, gritting noise. It has no reason to be as soothing as it is—it’s grating and harsh to the ear. Its limbs aren’t any better—those claws are long and _sharp_ yet Rex is not afraid. When he feels _something_ nuzzle the crown of his head, he takes a deep breath and calms down. He doesn’t really think before he takes its hands in his own. When the growl stops, Rex just squeezes. After a moment, the growl becomes… softer. It’s still unpleasant but not as much. The creature stays protectively curled around him until he wakes up.

What Rex implies: he doesn’t know how but he’s always known his creature loves him.

He’s on leave and everything should be fine except he keeps feeling twitchy. They just learned General Kenobi is _not_ dead, that he was sent undercover by the High Council, and Cody is both shattered and relieved. Rex tries to pick up the pieces of his brother and put them back in place even though they both know it’s not possible. They still try.

He feels more aggressive than usual. Not necessarily angry or annoyed–he’s still as cool headed as ever–he’s just _different._ He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Cody looks at him with sharp, narrowed eyes, like he’s on edge and Rex doesn’t know how to fix it so he curls his hand around his brother’s nape and squeezes, nodding sharply. Cody blinks—for an instant his eyes widened.

“Sir,” Cody whispers with such a small shake of his head it’s almost imperceptible. “It's alright, sir. They’re all safe now.”

  
  
  


Rex doesn't really know what happens after that—but he can’t find the creature. He keeps calling and calling and calling but it’s not here. He can’t find it. He runs on Geonosis, on Umbara and on Kadavo; he runs around his mind and he can’t find it. Every time he wakes up, he gasps; breathing becomes difficult for a couple of seconds and he has to look in his mirror to calm down. The problem is that it doesn’t calm him down at all—because there’s no reflection anymore. It’s as empty as his mind is.

He keeps hoping he’ll hear something crawling inside the walls but he never does.

They're on Nar Shaddaa undercover and it's their first mission together since their Commander left. General Skywalker is drunk and raw and so is Rex. He feels sharper but also more aggressive; the world around him looks like a vivid simulation he has to understand so everything can click together. During the entire time he can feel his mirror vibrating in his pocket. It's been doing this ever since the creature disappeared; it's always the same rhythm, long-long, short-long, short-long-short, short-short, short-long. He doesn't know what the pulses mean but strangely they soothe his nerves. 

The mission is over and General Skywalker is very drunk and so is Rex. The walk back to the rooms they booked under fake names is done with a great amount of laughter that sounds a bit too sharp to be entirely genuine. When he’s in front of his door, Rex panics. He doesn’t want to go to sleep—he doesn’t know why. He thinks it has something to do with how violent his mind has been lately; sometimes their Commander is on Umbara and Rex’s men blast her down because Jedi are dangerous. He doesn’t want to experience that again tonight.

“Can I come in?” General Skywalker asks and it seems like a great idea at the time.

There’s something off about it—but then there’s something off about Rex too. They had to act like they were a couple because it calmed the mark down to know they weren’t dealing with people who’d try to cross one another as soon as they could. Rex had internally snorted. As if romance would stop one from betraying another.

“Would be weird not to, considering,” Rex hears himself say. 

His Jedi chuckles. He comes inside Rex’s bedroom and they talk. There’s a familiarity between them as much as there is a wall stopping them from being entirely familiar. Rex doesn’t know when they decided to build it. He wonders if it’s been here all along. He wonders what happened for them to decide being too close was a bad idea.

He doesn’t know who does what first; all he knows is that his Jedi is kissing him and Rex is kissing back. It lasts for a couple of seconds and an eternity—then one of them breaks the kiss and they both avert their gazes. Neither of them says they’re sorry. What’s certain is that Rex is the one to pull him back in again; he kisses him with determination like he never had before and suddenly Anakin can’t seem to get enough of him.

What Rex means: it doesn't feel real even if it is.

“I’m sorry,” his Jedi says, mortified. He jumps away and stares at Rex as if he is looking at someone else. “For a minute, I thought—” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He keeps staring at Rex as if seeing him for the first time. “I should go,” he says then gets up without waiting for an answer.

What Rex implies: he's not sure he wants this to feel real.

“Don’t,” he rasps, taking Anakin’s wrist in his hand. “Don’t leave me on my own.”

His Jedi stays. They don’t talk. They both know they’ll pretend they don’t remember that night and they’ll never try to talk about it ever again. Nothing happens; they just lie beside one another and they look at each other but they don’t _see_ each other. Rex doesn’t know why his Jedi looks at him with regret and pain in his eyes; he doesn’t understand _why._ When he wakes up, he is on his own. He doesn’t remember his dreams. The mirror is still empty. He adapts his breathing pattern to the rhythm he has come to think as the most soothing thing he's ever known: he inhales and exhales, long-long, short-long, short-long-short, short-short, short-long.

The day Fives dies he wonders if he should throw his mirror away. He almost wants to except he can’t make himself do it. When he falls asleep and finds himself on the planet with no sun he yells. The stars beneath his feet disappear one by one until there are none left; he is plunged into darkness and he is alone.

“Where are you?” he screams in despair. Rex doesn’t want to be left alone. “Where are you?”

Silence.

Rex yells. He checks his pocket. The mirror is here. How can it be? He checks it and sees yellow eyes widening. Rex gasps.

“Where are you,” they say. That voice—he knows it. It’s familiar; it makes his heart race and his face split into a wide smile. He doesn’t know that voice. He knows it but he doesn’t know where from. When he wakes up, he gasps. He cannot find his mirror. The room is pitch black. 

There is something above him. He cannot see what it is—except that he knows it is watching him. He tries to sit up but he can’t. There’s nothing stopping him from sitting up but he still can’t do it. He swallows down a yell and suddenly he can’t breathe.

There are eyes. Glowing, yellow eyes above him, watching him.

“You used to talk to me all the time,” the eyes say, closing the distance between them; he feels a thumb stroking his cheek softly. “You were the only thing keeping me together.” The eyes lean closer, tilting his chin up, then he feels sharp teeth softly nipping his jaw. “What happened, one?”

Rex blinks. One? He takes a sharp breath in.

“My name’s Rex,” he says. The eyes observe him silently, pupils roaming over his face.

“Are you certain?” they ask. “When did you become Rex?”

He opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out. He looks to the side, where there’s nothing to focus on. “I—” he begins but doesn’t end his sentence. He blinks. When did he choose Rex as his name?

“One,” the eyes call.

“My name’s Rex,” he replies immediately. When did he choose his name?

The eyes stare. The hand comes back to touch his face but retracts when he flinches.

“Rex,” they say, repeating it monotonously. “Do you remember me, Rex?”

He doesn’t say anything. The eyes avert their gaze, blinking and going back and forth quickly. Back and forth, back and forth, looking for something they cannot find.

“I don’t understand,” they whisper quickly. They slide back to his face and widen in fear. “What happened to you? Where are you?”

Rex wakes up with a silent gasp. He sits up, looking for his mirror then decides he doesn’t want to see it. He looks for his datapad instead; he turns it on and stares at his brothers’ faces, willing his lungs to stop burning. He spends the day trying not to focus on what the eyes said. He’s in a briefing with Cody and tries to stop thinking about it—but the voice keeps haunting him. He knows it. He knows he loves it. He also knows he doesn’t know it and he can’t love it if he doesn’t know it.

Before he can leave the briefing, General Skywalker says, “Rex, is there… _Anything_ else?”

He’s surprised by the question but replies immediately, “No, General.”

When he’s out, he feels like he can’t keep it together so he goes to the barracks, sits down and takes his datapad out to stare at the holo. The following days are a blur of emotions—Rex sleeps little and doesn't dream at all. He’s too worried about Echo to think about anything else.

Before his ARC leaves him again, Hunter pulls Rex aside and says, “You were a good instructor, sir.” Rex blinks. It's an odd thing to say, seeing what they just went through. He doesn't think he actually taught them anything. “I wasn't sure if it was you, I have to admit,” the sergeant continues. “But I'm not surprised the Commander still trusts you more than anyone else.” 

Rex doesn’t understand what he means but he doesn’t say it. He waits for him to find a private moment where he is on his own and he comms Cody. He tells him what Hunter says and sees his brother’s face freeze.

“What does he mean?” he asks. Rex is getting angry. He stares at Cody and suddenly he can see every single emotion on his face—and he knows how to use them against him.

“It's alright, sir,” Cody says. “They're al—”

“Why do you call me ‘sir’?” Rex snarls then startles. Cody doesn’t even flinch—but he stands straighter. It doesn’t make any sense. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

Something crosses over his brother’s face; for a short, single instant, he looks pained. 

“We couldn’t afford to lose you, sir. We couldn’t lose your mind,” he mutters. “But we couldn’t let it stay whole. And we can’t afford to lose you now either.” He nods with a pained smile and says, “It’s alright, sir. They’re all safe now.”

Rex doesn't really know what happens after that—but he’s too busy worrying about the fact that he doesn’t dream anymore. At all. He used to dream every night. Now he falls asleep and wakes up and nothing happens in between. More worrying is the fact that he cannot find his mirror again. It’s gone. He keeps trying to see if he forgot it somewhere but he can’t remember. 

Their Commander is back and she’s flying to Sundari with him. He can’t stop himself from looking at her; she’s still in that cadet phase that means changes are fast and one day you don’t realize it’s already over yet. She grew up yet again and he has no doubt she’ll be taller than him sooner rather than later. There’s something about watching her among their brothers; it’s almost as if nothing has changed, even though he really has to ignore a lot of parameters for that to work. The battle is as gruesome as expected; the Mandalorians are warriors and the ones they fight are highly trained warriors. He loses a lot of brothers in a matter of minutes and his blood is boiling when they find the Sith. What he doesn’t expect is his reaction to hearing him for the first time in reality.

What Rex means: he thinks he may be losing his mind.

They captured the Sith and are flying back to Coruscant to join their General; Rex has his helmet held on his hip and he smiles at their Commander because he is happy. The Sith is watching them from the Mandalorian vault. Rex doesn’t dare glancing back. He’s too afraid because there is a small part of him that doesn’t want to see the truth. There’s still a small part of him that hopes he’s wrong and it’s just a matter of conjecture. It seems to be as likely as it can be unlikely. As he walks through the corridors he cannot stop himself from checking if his mirror is back. He knows it isn’t. He wants to go see the Sith. The mirror hasn’t been in his pocket for a while now. He wants to go see the Sith. He salutes his Commander and goes to take the transmission from Coruscant. He wants to go see the Sith.

What Rex implies: he’s changing and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing.

They bury each brother they find. It takes time. They keep going because what would it mean for the ones left if they stopped before? The Sith’s voice keeps echoing throughout the valley; Rex thinks he can feel it on his skin. He is afraid. He wants to see the Sith. He stops checking his pocket because they are screams lodged deep inside his stomach and he is afraid they might get out if he does. The constant fear is salvation because if he doesn't focus on it then he can think about all the rest; he would understand why his arms are screaming at him to stop, why his hands feel numb and want nothing but rest, why his back is protesting its constant curving and why his eyes keep prickling and oscillating between uncomfortably wet or painfully dry. He wants to see the Sith. He wants to see

His Jedi leaves on her own, letting Rex take the shuttle. There is a part of him that screams—we do _not_ leave a brother behind and the youngling is under _our_ protection. It's the same part that's been growing and growing inside him for the last couple of months, for the last year maybe; it's a part of him that's actually more than just a part. The growls are louder and stronger and hungrier. Rex loses pieces of himself to it, feeds it with his numbness and lack of emotions in situations that require them. He feels like he is

Being on his own is just as he imagined it. Where are you, he keeps muttering under his breath, during the day as much he does at night. Where are you. Where are you. Where are you?

He wants to see the Sith and he is terrified of that. It's become an obsession, one he cannot explain and one that doesn't want to be explained. If he tries to look for an answer his mind rebels; it bites and growls and attacks him even when he is awake. He sees ghosts around him—not the dead, not even, just people that exist and don't as well. He sees Fox shooting Fives again and again and again. And it's funny because Rex doesn't know Fox, not really, only by name and reputation, but he thinks about him a whole lot. It's strange because he _knows,_ deep down inside him, that this is unlike Fox because he is ruthless and determined but also volatile. He knows his brother, knows he'd refuse that order no matter what Fives did because Fox has his own set of rules and values that are just as important as the ones they were taught. He knows his brother can be blind to his own faults; as much he is a formidable tactician, he is also his best enemy. 

What Rex means: the more time he spends on his own, the more he knows about his brothers.

He doesn't know Fox. How can he know that? How can he know his brother is as dangerous as he is competent? How can he know there is no better brother to fight by his side than Fox? How can he know it's also the worst choice because Fox doesn't play by the rules and doesn't care about the consequences? Why does he get angry every time he remembers his name is _Fox_ and not

What Rex implies: he knows things he shouldn't but they make sense and they _shouldn't._

He’s got a job now; he doesn’t even know how he got it. One day he woke up and realized he must’ve been doing it for months. It’s something that happens from time to time; he’s got… blanks in his memories. A couple of minutes at first, then it was two consecutive hours during that day his shuttle almost became a vacuum in outer space. It’s not that frequent. Sometimes it's an entire week. He doesn’t think it’s that surprising. What would Kix say? Nothing, maybe. He wouldn’t say anything. He can't remember what he did these past weeks. Kix left before everything changed, anyway. If he’s lucky, he’s still got a mind of his own. Does Fox have

There are brothers here. And the mark is nowhere to be found. Rex curses. He knows he needs to go elsewhere if they’re just passing by or mark the town as unsafe if they’re stationed there. He has to avoid even flirting with the Mid-Rim; this is why he shouldn't have taken that job. From now on, everything he deems too close to Coruscant—he won’t go and he won’t accept bounties. He can’t afford to

Rex is a bounty hunter. He’s not in the Guild but he’s cheaper and never fails to deliver so he’s got a good business going. Enough to put fuel in his ship and fill his armory. He still has his armor but he doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s too risky. Sometimes he sees… He sees…

_Fierfek._ It's happening again. It's… how long was he out this time? What the… What is going on with him? Why doesn't he remember what he did yesterd

He’s bought a new helmet; the HUD is good. It’s unfamiliar until it becomes familiar. Rex guesses it’s the case when he realizes he’s been dreaming of Umbara and the HUD is the new one, not the one from his Phase II. He has stopped looking for the creature weeks ago. Maybe months. He doesn’t remember. But he knows he won’t find it anymore. How… What did he do yesterday? Why can’t he… Why can’t he remember?

The blanks are more frequent now. He’s in his bunk; he blinks; he’s outside. Rex turns around; there’s a house. The door is open. He walks in. There’s no one here. He walks out. There’s an unconscious Nikto. She’s cuffed. “My bounty,” his own voice says. He guesses it means it’s true so he drags the Nikto back to his ship. He doesn’t really know how he knows this is his ship but he does.

He wants to find the Sith.

He keeps a mirror in his pocket. It’s not the right one. He knows it’s not the right one and he hates it. The weight is all wrong; the shape is all wrong. When he looks in it, he can see himself. He hates this mirror. He doesn’t know why he keeps it. Rex is waiting for a landspeeder. Should be here any minute. The mirror is distracting him; he keeps checking it's still in his pocket instead of keeping his head on the job. There are a lot of landspeeders here; all drivers waiting for someone to tell them where to go. The one he is looking for isn't here yet. He thinks th

“There's got to be someone, friend,” the owner says. The cantina is almost empty now. Rex blinks. He has no idea how he ended up here. There’s a drink in front of him. It’s empty. There’s actually several drinks. All empty. The Chagrian tops his drink with a sludge he doesn’t recognize but his mouth waters so he guesses it’s good. “Surely there’s someone waiting somewhere.”

“Not anymore,” Rex says, using the straw to taste the thing. It is good. There’s no alcohol in it. The owner nods but says nothing. Somehow it prompts Rex to fill in the silence. “I miss my brothers. I miss my J—” He closes his mouth. The Chagrian’s eyes are staring at him like they can see through his helmet and even further. Rex tenses.

“We all do. We all will,” she says. “Maybe someone you met. Someone whose life you changed for the better.” She cracks her knuckles on the counter. “You saved a lot of us, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. She hums noncommittally. 

“You sure there isn’t anyone? Someone you’d like to see, maybe.”

He should go. He should leave. It’s clear she knows what he is. Yet he doesn’t move; he stays at the counter and sips his drink like there’s nothing worrying about the whole situation. Like he actually knows why he’s here or exactly where _here_ is. He checks his pocket. The mirror is here. It’s not his mirror. He hates it.

“There is—” He huffs.

“Nothing’s stupid, friend,” she says nonchalantly. Far from being subtle yet it does the trick.

“There’s someone,” he admits. “I just… I don’t know where they are now.”

“Do you know where they’re from?”

He blinks. “Yeah,” he mutters. She refills his glass and smiles.

“Well. You know where to start, then.”

Rex chuckles. It’s not that easy. The Chagrian grins and

Probably two hours left before he’s—Fierfek. Fierfek. What is he—where is he going? He looks at the blue hues of hyperspace in front of him and curses. The course is set for Dathomir. Of karking course it is. He’s pulled out of hyperspace in the middle of nowhere. There’s no trade routes going to the planet. Fierfek. What the kark is he doing? His hand goes straight to his pocket and he gasps.

He takes it in his hand, to be sure; it’s the right weight but… Oh. It’s the right… It feels like—

Rex laughs. His mirror is back. Not the other one—the real one. It’s here, safely cradled in the palm of his hand. He can see the corner of his pilot seat and a corner of his cockpit. He turns it slowly to look at himself and

The planet smells like rot. The air is thick and humid; wet weather makes his clothes stick to his skin. Thank the Force for his helmet. At least his head stays dry. He takes a look around. That sun looks like it’s dying. It’s too big and not powerful enough. How long til it swallows up everything around it? 

He needs to find the Sith.

That way. He needs to go through the forest. He’s not sure why. He just knows it’s the right way, like he knows things he’s not supposed to know. He just walks, lets his feet lead him where they want to go. The trees are weird. The roots sink into the earth—black, undescriptible dark mass of matter that no words can describe, or at least none Rex can find. Suddenly he is struck by the realization that he has no idea why he is here, why he is staring at that tree or why he feels like his purpose is only one he forced himself to believe in even though there are no reasons for him to follow the set of rules he built for himself.

What Rex means: he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he means. He has no idea what anything means. He’s been forgetting entire days now. The last time he looked at himself in the mirror he noticed he dyed his hair black. He doesn’t remember when he did that. He doesn’t even know _why_ he did that. He kneels in front of the tree, stares at the charcoal lumps and wants to scream. 

What Rex implies: nothing. He’s not implying anything. For that, he’d need to understand what he wants to say in the first place—what any of this means, why he’s been feeling like he’s fighting some kind of shadow enemy he cannot win against, why he knows the battle is already lost even though he’s not even sure when it started or if it even did.

Something cracks behind him. There’s a growl. Rex can’t make himself move. He looks at the black mass in front of him and stays still. He can smell it before he can hear it. It comes closer; the earth shivers with the weight of each step. Rex doesn’t move. He can try to take his blaster but if it is what he thinks it is, then he won’t be fast enough. The growl is low, more about breathing than alerting its prey. Rex knows it will want to play. If he doesn’t move, he may have a chance. Not a big one but… He doesn’t have much of a choice. So he stays still. 

Its saliva drops on his shoulder; there is a big, big claw right in his peripheral vision. The HUD is glaring red now. It inhales sharply, trying to find him by smell even though this sense is underdeveloped for all members of its species. It’s big but not big enough to be considered fully formed. Which means its mother must be nearby. Rex breathes slowly. As long as it cannot sense him move, it stays blind to his position. He may have a chance. He just needs to stay still. His blaster won’t do much against it anyway. It steps away. Rex stops himself from sighing in relief. It may not be over.

Something moves on his left. He hears a twig snap. Rex closes his eyes. 

The growl that follows isn’t the one he expects. It’s one he’s come to dream about every night—one he wants to hear again, if only just once. It’s the most dangerous of all growls because it signifies death as much as it means he’ll be safe. Rex gasps. But his eyes stay closed. He hears it—the laceration, a howl of sharp pain; he feels it—cold blood splattering on his back and his helmet, the ground shaking when it is disturbed by dead weight abruptly falling; he senses it—the certainty that it may cut through almost anything and he is finally safe. Rex opens his eyes. The roots in front of him make sense now. He takes off his helmet, slowly and carefully, then turns his head to the left.

The growl is red and dual—two blades of death that should strike him to the core, propel him into motion and force him to react. But Rex stays still.

“Sleep,” is the command and something is definitely wrong with him because the only thing he does before everything fades away is smile. 

When he wakes up he is on his own. He blinks himself awake and looks around. He isn’t outside anymore.

He isn’t on his own. He can feel him. Rex doesn’t have to see him to know he’s here. He sits up. He is on a bed. There is no one next to him. He looks around. When he feels arms curls around him, hands clawing at his chest and feels a sigh on his nape he freezes.

“I found you,” Maul whispers shakily against his temple, his arms tightening around him. Rex closes his eyes. “Remember me.”

It’s a strange sensation, starting at the back of his head. It’s low vibrations at first, morphing into faint ringing—nothing like what the Commanders did—then a sudden blow, striking him in the spine and Rex shouts in surprise.

“Remember me,” the Sith growls in his ear, hand clawing at his skull. It’s not just a faint ringing anymore.

What Rex means: his mind is on fire.

There’s memories, intricate, forbidden and forgotten—others are here and known and projected and _who’s the youngling_ the name’s Rex but you can call me captain or _get up Cody show me you can do_ the paint job’s a little crude but I think _Fordo doesn’t recognize me anymore and he won’t_ Remember me _grow up loyal to the Republic or they don’t grow up at all_ stop firing we’re shooting at our own _I’m no Jedi_ not Umbarans they’re clones _They’re clones!_

“Remember me.”

He gasps.

What he implies: his mind wasn’t his own.

There’s a hole inside his skull—one he tried to keep hidden at all times. It’s not a huge thing; he can keep it out of view easily and it’s smaller than a clone’s thumb. It broke, it cracked, even if he tried to convince himself it didn’t. He doesn’t know when it appeared for the first time. All he knows is it kept getting bigger. 

It’s not self-inflicted; there’s no doubt about it. When he tries to poke it the tumor is still tender and fresh—it’s unsure whether it wants to settle or keep growing. He looks up, into the eyes of the only thing that kept him going when everything became too overwhelming and he smiles.

“Do you remember me, one?” Maul asks, fear and despair evident on his face. There’s not much he can do to stop himself from raising his hand to stroke his cheek with his thumb, his arm pulling him flush against him.

Alpha One-Seven nods, exhausted and overwhelmed, but it’s the first time in a long time that he’s stopped fighting with his mind and he thinks this must be what peace is.

“I forgot how good it felt to hold you,” he whispers. Maul’s eyes widen. “You put on weight, spider.” He grins sharply. “That’s good.”

The shiver he receives is a pleasant gift—but the laugh, surprised and relieved, it’s the laugh that One-Seven sees as victory; there’s something on the edges of that sound, razor sharp and hinting of a lack of balance. It’s a bit unhinged, to be honest, and the familiarity is comforting because his spider may have changed a bit but he still feels as _wrong_ as he always did. The memories settle inside his mind like they’ve been waiting for him to catch up—the first time he approached his creature, the first time the spider replied to him with coherent words, the first time One-Seven gave him his name and the first time he realized his spider’s mind was slowly becoming whole again.

And they tried to take him away from Maul—they tore his mind to shreds and tried to pick up the pieces and assemble them as they saw fit. They made an empty shell out of him and thought he wouldn’t claw his way back to the surface. 

“Now what?” he rumbles, groaning in satisfaction when Maul’s fingers massage his skull.

He glances at his spider’s legs. This will take time getting used to but he doesn’t mind. He looks much, much healthier; his horns are less bony and he has fat over his muscles. One-Seven grins sharply—he chuckles when he sees yellow eyes widen in surprise. How strange. He missed them even though it feels like he saw them not so long ago. He takes hold of his horns, flattens his hand on the back of his head and pulls him closer abruptly, closing his eyes in satisfaction when his silent demand is easily met.

“We lay low for now,” his spider whispers against his jaw. “Then we will build our own empire from the shadows.” One-Seven shivers in anticipation. “And everything we want shall be ours.”

“Oh, I missed you," he mutters, soothed by the steady rhythm of Maul's heartbeats. It's probably his favorite song in the galaxy; he remembers tapping the disjointed drumming of fragmented silences between the beats—long-long, short-long, short-long-short, short-short, short-long—every night in his pod before falling asleep. He can't even understand how he's been able to fall asleep this long without doing it. He looks at his spider's eyes and his jaw clenches. “Don't ever let me leave you again,” he whispers roughly. “Don't let me disappear.”

There's so much fear in these eyes, intermingled with rage and anger and hatred—but not for him, never for him. One-Seven sees what broke and will never be put back together; he sees hunger, brought by the horror of knowing what true loneliness feels like, what being alone and knowing there will be nothing else following mean. He knows he contributed to it. He knows his spider has always been starving for acknowledgement and acceptance but, seeing these eyes staring at him like they're not entirely sure what they see is real—

“I won't,” Maul promises. The words bring up a feeling to the surface; One-Seven knows everything is as it should be now, that he may have been fighting with his own self for a long time but that they both know this was all because they needed to be here, right here, at this exact moment. One-Seven takes their spider's chin in their hand and Rex smiles.

“Good,” they say, nodding in emphasis when they see the doubt in Maul's eyes. “It's alright,” they whisper. “We're all safe now.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines!! I hope you like it 💗I tried to fit in a lot of things I love about your writing (couldn't describe Nar Shaddaa for the life of me smh) and stuff that I think we both dig dfjkg
> 
> Rex being reconditioned!Alpha is actually an idea that grew into a fully-fledged monster in the maulrex server (thanks y'all) so credits to them!
> 
> (also,,,,fyi, maul's heartbeats are actually morse code for jasondont's name because I thought it could be cool)

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